The Missing Piece
by pamz
Summary: Post Season 4 Finale - Paige goes to talk to Walter at the garage, where she stumbles upon a scene which blows her mind.


**Author's note:** The premise for this popped into my head while eating breakfast this morning. I don't know if it will be therapeutic in any way. Maybe it's a symptom I'm way past any help and have gone off the deep end (to be honest I was already teetering on the precipice). This has a little bit of everything in it; humor, angst, drama, smut, the 1st law of thermodynamics. . . Everything you never knew you wanted in a fanfiction story. No Mark Collins though. Couldn't find a costume to fit him.

 **Disclaimer:** This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the enjoyment of other Scorpion fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights of K/O Paper Products, Blackjack Productions, Perfect Storm Entertainment, SB Films, CBS Television Studios, or anyone else.

 **THE MISSING PIECE**

Paige opened the door to the garage. She knew she shouldn't be there. She'd quit. Walked away. Said some truly awful things to the man she loved. Words she'd come to regret. She wanted to apologize. She only hoped he would let her stay long enough so she could.

Inside it was dark, the only light coming from the street lamps outside streaming through windows. Funny, she thought she'd seen every light in the building burning when she drove up.

Guessing she was wrong, she shrugged before crossing the floor. As she drew closer to the stairs, a faint tinkling of music grew louder, an exotic melody which sounded vaguely Middle Eastern.

What the hell? Since when was he into anything other than classical or jazz? Oh, God, what if _she_ introduced him to a new genre of music? Of course, he'd listen to whatever _she_ wanted him to listen to, remembering with a pang his broken promise of learning about old standards.

Angrily wondering if she was just wasting her time, Paige marched up the steps to the closed loft door. A door he rarely closed. Only when he wanted privacy. Like when they used to. . .

She shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind. She didn't care what he was doing. . .or with whom. She just wanted to clear the air between them and be friends again. It was their friendship she missed; not the way he kissed her, or touched her, or how it felt when he. . .

Exasperated with herself, she huffed out a breath then eased open the door, preparing herself for the worst. But nothing - _nothing_ \- could have prepared her for what she saw.

The loft had been transformed into something from out of _Aladdin_ or _Arabian Nights_. All the furniture was gone, replaced by large multi-colored velvet pillows. Gossamer curtains in every shade of the rainbow swathed the room. A long, low table was filled with ornate dishes piled high with grapes, dates, and figs.

Six women; three with blonde hair, three with black; danced in a circle, wearing a skimpier version of the "I Dream of Jeannie" costume as they twirled around again and again. And in the middle of it all, dressed in only a pair of very loose fitting trousers, was Walter, a leering grin on his face as he watched the women gyrating before him.

" _Oh, my God_ ," she uttered, surprised she could even speak. She had to be dreaming. Tripping, hallucinating, something. . . To be sure, she pinched her arm, flinching as she felt the bite of her fingers. Well, crap. . .

Unable to stop herself, Paige moved closer, trying to focus on the women as they spun by. She gasped with shock as she recognized Florence, who had a smug, satisfied smile on her face. She'd barely recovered when the next woman whirled past her, Sima, Fatima, whatever the hell her name was. The hits kept coming as Linda, Stella, and Janice pirouetted by in quick succession.

But the last woman. . . "Oh, my God," she said, not caring her vocabulary had shrunk to just three words. "Happy?" Okay, make that four. "What in the hell are you doing?" Now she'd almost tripled it.

"Pleasing my lord and master," the mechanic replied, dancing away as she called out, "Work is force over distance."

Paige grew even more baffled as she realized the others were also blurting out scientific and mathematical facts and equations. Florence was saying "A nucleus consists of positively charged protons and uncharged neutrons." Sima-Fatima was chanting "Phosphorus trichloride and liquid trans-methyl propylaxine and O-ethyl methyphonic acid."

She heard Linda's voice declaring "Amorphophallus titanum, also known as the titan arum, also known as the corpse flower. . ."

"Superconducting electromagnets do not dissipate energy as heat," Stella stated.

"The symptoms of a heart arrhythmia include palpitations, dizziness, shortness of breath, chest pain, loss of consciousness, and may result in cardiac arrest." Janice contributed to the onslaught of information being spewed.

More followed. "E = MC squared." "The melting point of polonium is 527 Kelvin." "No energy in the universe is created and none is destroyed." "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." Math equations so complex she couldn't begin to understand them.

Glimpsing at Walter, she could see he was growing more and more excited by the random facts the women were reciting. Her own brain was drowning from the overload of data. She clamped her hands over her ears, but it didn't help. They kept tossing out more and more bits of knowledge until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up!"

Her shout was followed by a loud hand clap. The women all fell silent as they halted in their tracks. Paige watched, mesmerized as Walter got to his feet, his baggy pants riding low on his hips. There was something about him. . . He seemed more confident. . . Even more arrogant, if that were possible. . . Just. . .more. Swallowing nervously as the more intimate parts of her body started to tingle, she averted her eyes when she realized she was staring at his. . .his groin.

"Paige!" He greeted her warmly, a broad smile on his handsome face. "I'm so glad you could join us." Glancing around, he added, "I have a costume for you somewhere. . . Of course, it's larger than the others. . ." Another clap of his hands sent the others scrambling.

"What?" Just what the hell was he implying? That she was fat? She already insecure about how she stacked up against these other women mentally. Was he also telling her she didn't do it for him physically?

"You have to agree you're much bigger than the other women who are attracted to me. Just look at them; petite, dainty little creatures. You're like an Amazon compared to them." He moved toward her. "But that just means there is more of you to love. And I do love you. You're the love of my life."

"You didn't mean that. You were just distracting me from the fact you were sneaking around behind my back with. . .with her." She jabbed a finger toward Florence, who had appeared by his side holding garments similar to the ones she was wearing.

"Thank you, my dear," he said to the chemist, taking the clothing from her. "Flo and I were having an intellectual affair, that's true. You were right, you never could satisfy me that way." He waved his free hand around to indicate the rest of the women. "They all satisfy me in their own ways, ways you never could. I needed something from them you couldn't give me."

"Then why the hell did you fall in love with me? Was it all a huge lie?" Paige couldn't believe what she was hearing. To be told she didn't satisfy him, that she could never give him what he needed. . . She sucked in a deep breath. _Oh, God_. . . Wasn't that exactly what she'd told him? That he'd never satisfied her? That he couldn't give her what she needed? Couldn't be the man she wanted him to be?

Pain speared her chest, and she feared she was suffering from the nickname he'd called her on the island. _My little arrhythmia_. _Oh, God_. Is this how he'd felt? Like his heart was being torn from his chest? Any anger left inside her dissolved in an instant.

"No, it was never a lie," he said, unwittingly interrupting her struggle. "I love you. I've loved you since that day in the diner. I don't think I can ever stop loving you. Even when you don't love me anymore." He held out the costume to her. "Please, put this on. Join my harem. You're the piece I was missing all these years."

She didn't remember taking the scraps of fabric from his hand. Or taking off her clothes. She stood naked before him, dithering for a second, not sure whether to first put on the sheer bra or the barely there trousers. The decision was taken out of her hands as Walter tossed the garments over his shoulder and pulled her up against his warm, hard, body.

She gulped in a huge lungful of his scent; the same simple mixture of soap and man he always smelled like, the one which always drove her wild. His fingers slid leisurely downward, tracing their way down her spine, stopping to rest on the small of her back.

"I've wanted to be with you from the first moment I laid eyes on you," he murmured softly into her ear. "I can't wait to have you."

His lips touched her neck, gently at first, then more urgently. The room seemed to darken of its own accord. The women, the women from his past, the ones she'd been jealous of at one time or another, had disappeared.

Paige lifted her head, allowing him to kiss his way down her neck, his hands moving upward, cupping her breasts at the same time his mouth reached their hard peaks. Moans and groans filled the room; hers or his, she neither knew nor cared. Nothing mattered except for the fact she was in his arms again.

Her legs began to tremble, and he smoothly lowered her down onto the mound of pillows where he'd been lounging. She was embarrassingly ready for him, aching so badly from the anticipation she was close to coming. His need was more than obvious as his trousers slipped down his narrow hips.

"I love you," he said again, looming above her. "Only you." His dark brown eyes searched hers, pleading for something she couldn't name. . . Until it struck her like a blow to the stomach.

"I love you, too, Walter," she reassured him. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. I love you so much. . ." Her cheeks grew damp as he kissed her lips.

"It's okay, love," he soothed, stroking her face, drying her tears. "Don't cry. I'm sorry, too. More than you'll ever know."

He nudged himself against her entrance, hesitating, driving her insane with desire. She closed her eyes, arching her body upward. Then. . .

A loud blaring noise startled Paige, freezing her in place. Opening her eyes, she saw she was in her bedroom. A quick glance to the left side of the bed told her she was alone. As alone as the day she'd walked out on the love of her life.

The alarm clock continued to obnoxiously squawk and she slammed her hand down on the off button in frustration. And oh, God was she frustrated. Every sensation she'd experienced in her dream still affected her; the tingling, the harsh breathing, the wetness - both between her legs and on her face.

She laid there on her back, staring at the ceiling, trying to pull herself together. It _had_ been a dream. A dream so vivid and realistic. . . She'd nearly had an orgasm without anyone even touching her.

Gathering what was left of her wits, she climbed out of bed, a plan falling together as she headed for the bathroom. She had a busy day ahead of her. Canceling appointments, voiding contracts, turning down job offers, firing all her employees, dismantling her fledgling business. . . And the most important task of all. . .

Crawling back to the man she loved and begging him to forgive her.

She only hoped he could.

* * *

 **FIN**


End file.
